‘Did you make enquiries?’ asked Frances.

‘I did, immediately. I went to the hotel and was told that Antrobus had vacated his room on the expected day. I spoke to our associates in the tobacco trade but none of them had seen him or received so much as a note. I enquired at the railway station, but a gentleman attired for business looks very much like another unless there is something distinctive about his person, or his manner of dress or his whiskers. Mr Antrobus was not a man who stood out in a crowd. I alerted the railway company in case he had fallen from the train, but they assured me that no remains had been found on the line.’ He shook his head. ‘Poor Mrs Antrobus was quite distraught at the situation and naturally I said I would do everything I could to help her.’

‘She is unable to travel, I understand?’

‘Yes, in fact – in fact I was very surprised to hear from her at all. Antrobus had told me almost nothing about his wife’s affliction, and I had decided it was best not to pry, but I received the very strong impression that she suffered from a species of hysteria, which is something I have no knowledge of, and was therefore unable to attend to her own affairs. When I received her letter, however, I found her to be intelligent, articulate and not at all disordered in her mind. On better acquaintance I discovered that she is a lady who can only command great sympathy and respect. No, it is a disease of the ears that she suffers from, and which gives her great pain unless she keeps very quiet to herself. A busy street, a noisy carriage or a train would be the most perfect torture to her.’

‘I see,’ said Frances, who had never heard of such an extraordinary thing. ‘So you agreed to act as her agent?’

‘Yes, the family had already notified the police, and I engaged a private detective, a Mr Ryan, who was very thorough indeed and submitted a full report. I have it with me.’ Wylie patted the document case. ‘He spoke to the clerk at the hotel who told him that on the morning of Antrobus’ departure he saw him talking to a man in the hallway. He was unable to describe the man but had the distinct impression from their manner that they were not strangers. Then his attention was distracted by the need to attend to another guest, and when he looked again Antrobus and the other man had both gone. They might have departed in each other’s company, but it cannot be proved.’

‘Tell me about Mr Antrobus’ will. According to the newspapers it is very unfavourable to his wife. What is your opinion?’

A grimace creased the visitor’s features for a moment. ‘Oh, that is a terrible thing!’ he said bitterly. ‘The will was drawn up several years previously and in the mistaken belief that poor Mrs Antrobus was not competent to manage her affairs. Almost all of the estate is left in trust for the two sons, who are now aged fifteen and twelve and are at school, the trust to be administered by Antrobus’ brother Lionel until the boys come of age. Mrs Antrobus was left only a small annuity, presumably on the assumption that her husband had many more years to live – he would be forty-four now if alive – and it must have been envisaged that by the time he passed away the sons would have achieved their majority and be able to care for their mother. But it was not to be. And the cruellest thing is that shortly before his departure he had been planning to change his will to something altogether more generous. Mrs Antrobus had finally been able to convince her husband that she was as competent as the next lady – indeed I would say she is more so – and he had agreed that on his return from Bristol he would make a new will.’

Frances gazed at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Is that not a very great coincidence, that he went missing at such a critical time?’ she asked pointedly. Sarah made no attempt at concealing a smile that was almost a smirk. Frances, as she well knew, did not like coincidences.

‘I suppose it is,’ Wylie admitted, ‘I had just seen it as unfortunate – the operation of fate. But you think it may be something more?’

‘I try to examine every possibility. Is the estate very valuable?’

‘I assume so, though it has not as yet been valued. The two principal assets are his half share in the cigarette manufacturing business and the house. Antrobus inherited the property from a maternal uncle, and it is his quite unencumbered. He and his brother also jointly own the tobacconist’s shop previously run by their late father and of which Mr Lionel is manager. Antrobus was always a prudent man with money and there are safe investments that produce an interest.’ He paused. ‘I say “was” since I feel sure that he is deceased, although in law he is still alive.’

‘Of course I understand that the will cannot be proved or, I suppose, even contested until it is shown that its author is deceased, and that this places Mrs Antrobus in a very difficult position,’ Frances observed, ‘but does her brother-in-law, knowing about the change in intentions, not do what he can to assist her in her very unfortunate situation?’

Wylie heaved a long sigh. ‘Mr Lionel Antrobus is —’ he hesitated, unsure of how to express himself – ‘a difficult man. He believes that he is doing his duty by adhering to the letter of the will and is undoubtedly concerned for the welfare of the boys, but I believe that he has always been jealous of his brother’s fortune, and there is no doubt that he heartily dislikes Mrs Antrobus and will do all he can not to give in to her wishes.’

Large estates and family rivalry, thought Frances, a combination fraught with unpleasant and highly interesting possibilities. ‘Please explain further.’

‘They are actually half-brothers. Mr Edwin is the younger, the son of their father’s second wife. He was a great favourite of his mother’s brother, a Mr Henderson, and so received a handsome legacy from him. Mr Lionel has received no such additional legacy, only a share of what their father left, and that was divided equally between the brothers. Mr Lionel has always felt that he should have had a larger share from his father as his younger brother enjoyed his uncle’s fortune. And he continues, despite all entreaties, to believe that Mrs Antrobus is suffering from hysteria. He thinks that an ailment he cannot see cannot exist.’

Frances frowned. ‘That is a very blinkered view. What of deafness, for example? That is not a malady one can see in the sufferer. Does he believe that that does not exist?’

‘Oh deafness has been with us since antiquity and I think he will allow it, but poor Mrs Antrobus’ disease he will not. He refuses to trust her with a penny more than her husband mentioned in the will and that is little enough. He pays the frugal allowance she would have received, but that is not sufficient to maintain the house. In fact, as soon as he assumed control of the estate he insisted that she should go to live with her sister, Miss Pearce, but that would not have been at all suitable. Miss Pearce was then residing in a small rented apartment, living off a modest annuity, caring for their widowed mother and earning a few extra shillings by giving classes in reading and writing to young children. The mother passed away the following Christmas, and Mr Lionel thought that was the ideal time for Mrs Antrobus to vacate the family home. He wanted to rent the house and place the income in trust for the boys, but Mrs Antrobus needs the peace and quiet the house affords her. It would have been very hard, in fact impossible for her to live in such a small apartment, what with children often present and the constant noise of carriages outside. So they devised a plan to circumvent Mr Lionel’s demands. Miss Pearce came to live with Mrs Antrobus. The classes had to be given up, but Miss Pearce found a little outside work as an hourly governess, and that enables them to remain there, if in reduced circumstances, with only one servant. Needless to say Mr Lionel was most annoyed at being thwarted and demanded that Mrs Antrobus and her sister should both leave and place the property under his control. I believe he took legal advice on the matter but he was told that in view of Mrs Antrobus’ affliction there might be some difficulty if he attempted to evict her. He has been silent on the issue for a while, but I am sure that he has not given up on the idea. It is a continuing anxiety that adds to the lady’s distress. If she was able to prove that her husband is dead, then she might be able to take steps to overturn the will. There are no documents to support what was only a verbal promise to increase her legacy, but any court would at once recognise that as the will stands it is grossly unfair to a blameless lady.’